


Dressing Code

by filesunderwater



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, 19th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 05:36:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20540966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filesunderwater/pseuds/filesunderwater
Summary: Thomas Jefferson, as the Democratic-Republican party leader, was famous for his plain dressing style to cater for his Republican constituents' taste. But the finely dressed British ministers wouldn't agree, of course, with his dressing code; and it mattered because Jefferson happened to be the US Secretary of State. The British felt insulted; and as a result, Monroe suffered from a series of unfair treatment in the British court as the American minister to Britain.When Monroe got back home, what would his mentor give him to compensate for his injure?





	Dressing Code

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a native English speaker, and it is very likely I use some vocabularies inappropriately in this work due to my limited language skill. Apology in advance.  
But please do believe I love the American founding fathers.

“You are mad at me.” The State Secretary suddenly concluded from nowhere.  
Monroe’s eyes widened at the remark. “No sir!” he denied even before he could give any reflection into what Jefferson meant, “I’m not…I mean, I shall never!”

It was true that he had just added some highly personal and emotional expressions into the report regarding his mission to London- maybe too much, considering that he was supposed to be in a professional context. But staying alone with Jefferson was certainly of no help for him to restrain the impulsion to pour out all the bitterness tortured him for the last six months.   
He was treated with a series of cold, unfair, rude manners in King George’s court, which he regarded as an insult not only to himself but also to his nation. However, he had no choice but to swallow them. President Washington had ruled ‘to retain peace with Great Britain at all cost, leaving him little space to argue.   
He would probably blame the unpleasant memories on those arrogant, hypocritical British aristocrats, on the conspirators in their own government known as the Federalists, or on the damp, gloomy thick air of London city- but never, ever on anything with the slightest relevance to his beloved mentor. In fact, he would panic if Jefferson’s attitude was suggesting alienation.  
“I can tell when my James is not in a good mood, but being too considerate to bring it up to me.” Jefferson simply smiled. Then, before Monroe could put together any reply, he lifted one hand to give James’ hair a few gentle strokes.   
The gesture never failed to melt down any tense between them, since years ago. There was something in Monroe’s eyes implying a desire for more, though he himself might have not realized it.  
To his disappointment, Jefferson did not choose to indulge it for the moment. “Mr. Monroe,” he cleared his throat as he stepped back to keep a decent distance, “Thank you for your service abroad. It would be a great honor to me if you could do me the favor to come to my place for dinner tonight, where I would be glad to express my gratitude on behalf of the State Department.” He paused, “and do something to compensate for what you’ve gone through- in person.”

When he was on the doorstep of Jefferson’s private lodging that evening, Monroe still had no clue to what was going on, or why Jefferson considered it his own responsibility to "compensate for" what had happened across the sea. But he took his mentor’s invitation as an order, understood it or not, as he always did.  
After showing him into a tiny while elegant study, the servant left without a word. Judging from the circumstance, this was going to be an informal meeting; but the delicate sets of silver, carved candlesticks and the blue and white chinoiserie porcelain displayed on the table suggested otherwise, which landed him in total confusion. He might also begin to worry about whether his humble brown waistcoat, old breeches of the same color and woolen hose were too casual for the situation.  
“Good evening, sir.” The host’s voice broke the silence. Monroe jumped to his feet as he turned around; realizing that the piece of furniture supposed to be an ordinary wardrobe standing at the corner of the room was actually a revolving door of some kind.  
Then he froze.

The dark-blue ribbon tying up Jefferson’s natural ginger hair was the only thing on him that bore a little similarity to his usual dressing style.   
His tall, lofty stature was now covered up by a flaming-colored coat, open front with wide, straight trimmed lapels. The well- tailored waistcoat inside was embroidered patterns of little diamond shapes on the edges with glowing golden thread. There were complicated cuffs on his cream shirt, which went in harmony with his lace-end cravat around the neck. The pair of ruby buttons decorating his breeches were scarlet in color, contrasting the pure white silk stockings below.  
He approached, apparently expecting some comments when Monroe tried to collect himself from astonishment.  
“Do you reckon this enough, Mr. Monroe?” Jefferson inquired.  
Monroe’s perplexity almost grew into anxiety when he heard his mentor addressing him with “Mr. Monroe” instead of “James”, or in a few other more intimate ways they’d used on some certain specific private occasions.  
“O…Of course, sir!”   
Monroe felt himself spoke like a nervous pupil being caught truanting. After all, he might have gazed at the first pearl button on Jefferson’s shirt just above the collarbone for too long.  
He’d seen bunches of luxuriously dressed men in the European upper society, but… but he was sure that Mr. Jefferson was far more gorgeous than every single one of them.  
“Great.” Jefferson started before Monroe could figure out an appropriate way to apologize, “I’ll take it as the proof that you are no longer mad at me.”   
According to common social manners, the correct respond here probably should be: Please don’t say that, there is no need to apologize at all, sir.  
However, what actually escaped him was: “Did you… did you prepare this for ME, sir?”

“Hmm? ” Jefferson pouted at Monroe’s reaction, a flash of implicit disappointment crossed his face.   
“I was told that you did not have a good time in London, James.” Jefferson’s voice was so soft, almost on the edge of weeping, “My heart broke when I found out it’s due to my fault. I should have known… that loathsome minister from George III’s court… he complaint to his king that I receipt him with intolerable manners, didn’t he? Thought my plain dressing style was an insult to him, and that we Americans were all terrible savages? "  
"But how dare they take their evil so-called revenge on MY James?!” It was not anger, but deep greivance written in Jefferson's eyes. "I was prouder than any man in the world when my dear James was appointed the vital mission to our nation's fate. Nevertheless it could not save me from the tremendous fear and regret that I was no longer able to keep you protected in my own arms..."  
"I have to live to the expectations of our fellow Republican constituents rather than those of the British. But it does not mean I don't care for your suffer- would you believe me, James? "  
So Mr. Jefferson DID prepared ALL these SPECIALLY FOR ME ALONE. That was the only thing echoing in Monroe's ears despite the fact that Jefferson just referred to a diplomatic issue and he was supposed to be concerned about it as the former Ambassador to Britain.  
Monroe felt his throat tightened. However, the words he was about to say, if he still could speak out any without losing control of his emotions, were cut off by Jefferson's sudden leaning close.  
"If only following the dressing code now could win me your forgiveness..."  
"Sir! I've never had the slightest doubt in how much you cared for me! I was just..."  
"I won't mind if you tell me directly that you'd prefer I wear... some normal clothes, James." Jefferson interrupted, forcing himself into a smile. "All that matters is having you come back to me, safe and sound."  
"No sir! That's not… It's...it's just I appreciated all these so much that I failed to express in language how deep an...an adoration I have for you..."  
At that claim, Jefferson's eyes lightened up, while Monroe was stunned by what he himself had just said.  
"Well, if that is the case." Jefferson's lips curled into a delighted smile, "Then I assume the European dressing code is no longer needed here."  
He reached for his cravat to loosen it a bit, accidentally revealing the pearl button which sent Monroe's cheeks burning.  
Monroe was intended to say something to relieve the embarassment as well as show his politeness, but things just wouldn't go as planned ever since Jefferson showed up this evening. It turned out that he literally asked his mentor, who was trying to unbutton his own coat: "May I help with that, sir?"  
Suprise only lingered on Jefferson's face for a second before it evolved into a warm, and somehow knowing smile. He did not give a rejection in time; and from that very moment, they both knew that no effort could ever direct the situation back to professional again.

His fingers traced the golden embroidery along the edge of Jefferson's waistcoat, trembling, before finally landed on the first shining sapphire button. Monroe paused, looking up to his mentor's eyes, as if pleading for further permission.   
He was answered by nothing more than a quick, slight nod. But that was all the encouragement he needed.  
A good soldier was trained to act with great efficiency and accuracy. And Monroe never failed to prove himself with deed.  
Jefferson stayed mute until his waistcoat was removed and there was only one thin layer of cloth left between the bare skin of his chest and the heated air surrounding them. It was then that he whispered the words to Monroe's ear: "Mr. Monroe, don't you feel you are overdressed to some extent by now?"

Monroe later learnt without real suprise that the revolving door pretending to be an innocent wardrobe actually served as a direct access to Jefferson's bedroom. Secretary Jefferson, who appeared to be extremely interested in discussing what people should wear for the whole evening, had finally grown bored, or even impatient on any piece of garments.  
After all, the dressing code in bedroom should differ from that in the study room SIGNIFICANTLY.

It seemed that the dinner on behalf of the State Department would not need to be served for a while. The chef and servants at the State Secretary's lodging concluded with excellent insight.


End file.
